


Love is the opposite of darkness

by TalesoftheEnchantedForest



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Arthur Kirkland, M/M, Songfic, the angst which was intended to be fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesoftheEnchantedForest/pseuds/TalesoftheEnchantedForest
Summary: Arthur liked to indulge in various aspects of life. Like booze, nicotine or even love. And he was a fool for ever believing that someone like Francis Bonnefoy could sincerely love him.
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Love is the opposite of darkness

**Author's Note:**

> So I was listening to this song and my Fruk shipper side forced me to write this. I totally created this on a whim.
> 
> The song in this fic is Best part of me by Ed Sheeran and YEBBA, I advise you listen to it while reading this fanfic but it is absolutely your choice. 
> 
> Enjoy!

England always prided himself on how well he handled solitude. He basked in the glory of isolation, managed a kingdom of privacy and serenity.  


On these nights, however, he was not England nor the United Kingdom. He was Arthur Kirkland, a miserably lonely man who was captive to his own toxic thoughts.  


**My hands are scarred from nights before**  


Every nation had scars due to the many battles they had to endure, or from the hardships they had to face while under oppression. Arthur was always amazed by how easily his self-inflicted scars blended in with the rest of his hideous body.  


How could he still love me?  


Arthur, of course, didn’t believe him. His words were only sweet lies which he liked to poison Arthur with until he was left devastated and only a faintly recognizable shell of himself. Francis knew him better than anyone, meaning he could cause the most damage upon his heart. Arthur liked to play the part of an ignorant, unpenetrable force but he was defenceless against the ruinous powers of his own mind.  


**My skin is inked but faded too**  


It seemed much more simple in the old days. Arthur couldn’t pinpoint the difference since his insecurities were at war with him for as long as he had remembered. But lately, it had been harder to ignore the voices inside his head.  


**You love me,  
**

**You love me,  
**

**Why the hell do you love me?  
**

**‘Cause I don’t even love myself**  


Arthur liked to indulge in various aspects of life. Like booze, nicotine or even love. And he was a fool for ever believing that someone like Francis Bonnefoy could sincerely love him.  


They were having a fight which was a rather common occurrence but for some unfathomable reason Arthur was more sensitive than usual and Francis was less considerate. He could see the immediate regret and horror inside the other’s eyes after the words had left his mouth but he could not erase them from Arthur’s memory.  


“How you ever thought of why nobody can’t stand to be around you?! It’s because you are an insensitive, arrogant and selfish asshole who’s never been loved in his whole life and therefore likes to make other’s lives insufferable!”  


**I overthink and still forgive**  


Arthur hated himself. He loathed how, after Francis had broken his heart numerous times in the oast, he was still utterly and irreversible in love with that wanker. And as he was crying on the floor, back against his worn-out couch, eyes red and glistening with tears of hundreds of years worth of loneliness, he wished for the other man to come and rescue him from himself like he had done so many times before.  


**Why the hell do you love me so?  
**

**When you could have anyone else?**  


Francis deserved better. Arthur was only bitter because he had known from the very start that he would never be enough for France. Not for a second. Arthur was selfish, Francis was right about that. Arthur was greedy because one of the main reasons he had stayed with the other nation was because he had liked himself more when around Francis. It seemed as if the other man had loved him regardless of insecurities and imperfections so it made Arthur feel better about himself.  


Too bad it was all fake.  


His sobs were muffled in the arms of his comfort sweater as he wallowed in self-pity and blamed himself for everything as if it was a hobby of his. He didn’t hear the creak of the door, nor the concerned repetition of his name. All he could sense was a strong arm settling securely around his shoulder and delicate fingers combing through his hair in a soothing motion as the intruder rocked them back and forth with desperate whispers hanging in the air:  


**Baby, the best part of me is you**  


“I’m so sorry, Arthur. I’m here, I won’t leave you.”  


Arthur sobbed louder as Francis planted gentle kisses into his hair and onto his soaked cheeks. Arthur hated himself for the warmth that blossomed inside his chest at the affectionate touch, but Francis was here. He was here to save him.  


“Je t’aime, Arthur. I know you don’t believe me but I will prove it to you one day”  


Arthur might not believe in words yet, but he believed in Francis. His kisses, his hugs and his eyes which told him everything Arthur was too scared to see before.  


**  
Baby, I’m so in love with you**


End file.
